


Beauty is a Crushing Force of Righteousness

by MartianSquid



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angry Yuri Plisetsky, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Groping, Insecure Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, Minor Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky, POV Third Person Limited, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Post-Grand Prix Final, Teen Angst, Teen Crush, Underage Drinking, Yuri Plisetsky Swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 22:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartianSquid/pseuds/MartianSquid
Summary: Yuri's been denying his feelings, and himself, most of his life. He's not going to make that mistake again.





	Beauty is a Crushing Force of Righteousness

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags. More notes at the end of the fic, if you would like further warnings/musings before proceeding.

The banquet after Barcelona.

This time, Yuuri Katsuki watches how much he drinks, enough to take the edge off of his anxiety, but not enough to challenge everyone (anyone) to a dance off (or so he hopes). Viktor and he had been dancing, but alas, the memories of the _last_ time hung over his head, and he retreated back into a corner. Meekly, he watches Viktor socialize, catch up with old friends, discuss his return to competitive skating. It brings his heart joy, seeing the passion and excitement return to his idol.

“Katsudon,” an angry hiss in his ear, “the wall can hold itself up.”

Yuuri doesn’t need to turn to know who it is, but he does anyway, giving a fond smile, “Yurio.” Yuri Plisetsky, Russia’s new skating prince, with the general disposition of a wet cat. At one time, Yuuri might’ve considered him an enemy, but they’d quickly become rivals. Beyond that, once they’d spent some time together, he was actually rather kind, “Congratulations on the gold.” Yuuri holds up his glass, “To you.”

Yuri’s cheeks tint a soft rose, half-heartedly lifting his own, muttering, “Whatever.”

Katsuki should probably reprimand the teen for drinking, he isn’t technically legal to drink here (nor most other countries), but it was a rather special day.

“You should probably go back to the party.” He shuts his eyes, leaning back against the wall, “I probably won’t be much fun over here.”

Yuri blushes. He shouldn’t. He can’t. But Katsudon just looks _so_ _vulnerable_ , and in Yuri’s hormonal, tipsy, the-world-is-always-ending state of being firmly in his adolescence, he _has_ to. Or else he’ll never get another chance.

With his eyes closed, Yuuri doesn’t see the kiss coming, can’t quite comprehend the gravity of the situation he’s now in. If he had, even while slightly drunk, he’d have stopped it. For a moment, and this one moment would prove to be his downfall, Yuuri leans into it.

Several blissful seconds. To an outside observer (that is, everyone who isn’t currently Yuri), this might seem contradictory to every aspect of his public image. Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t enjoy the company of other human beings (Otabek’s friendship is still too new in the tabloid world). Yuri Plisetsky isn’t interested in dating. Yuri Plisetsky hates Yuuri Katsuki.

But that last point had changed. Not all at once, of course. The pig had been annoying, weak, pathetic, stole Viktor from him.

_Fucking Viktor_.

It was as if they’d both reached the same thought simultaneously, Yuuri finally pulling away from the kiss, appearing dazed for a moment, before a deep red blooms over his face, as if realizing what he’d just done, “Yurio…” He trails off, unable to look his rival in the eye, correcting himself after a moment, “Yuri. You’re a child. You can’t know-”

“ _No I’m not!_ ” Yuri asserts, instantly angry, stomping his foot — in the way only a child could.

_Thus proving my point_ , Yuuri thinks, but knows that won’t make any progress, “I’m 24.”

“And a complete asshole pig.”

Yuuri blinks. He knows it’s not personal, that Yurio gets like this when he’s frustrated, even in the least. Logic won’t work. Empathetic arguments won’t quell him. Even if he walks away with everything he wants, he’ll still be unhappy.

Yuuri doesn’t want to hurt him, but he knows such a fate is inevitable when he’s asking… _this_ , of him. This shouldn’t even be a conversation, but the fourth glass of champagne seems to have dampened that much of his own sensibilities. “Then why do you want to do… _anything_ , with me?”

Yuri _growls_ , spitting a, “never mind, piggy,” and marching off to rejoin the party. His abandoned skating rival leans against the wall, letting out a huge internal sigh of relief, one that even manifests physically, comically. _That was close._

Fairly certain Yurio wouldn’t be coming back, Yuuri goes for a fifth glass, trying to forget about what just happened.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri had eventually gone back to his room, wobbling slightly, one hand pressed against the walls in the hallway for balance. Viktor had stayed down at the party, still the talk of the town.

It looked like he was having a good time, probably helped the fact that Viktor hadn’t drank far too much. Yuuri had been doing so well, but then…

Yuuri couldn’t even think about it, not properly. He loved Yuri. Just… not that way. Not that he’d ever _thought_ about, because he was a teen. Not yet 16. Sure, old enough to start dating, but _people his own age._

Still. That kiss. Getting to his room, Yuuri places a light touch on his lips, burning from that brief contact. He’d kissed back. A little drunk, yes, but he _had_. Maybe he’d thought about it more than he’d ever admit…

Yuri was, _is_ beautiful.

_No_ , he shook his head, going into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He decides to go to bed, maybe Yurio would be over it in the morning. Or so he hoped, because if he weren’t… that would require a full conversation, _and Yurio would hate me again_.

Maybe he could talk to Viktor. He’d known Yurio for longer, and with his god-like status, probably had far, _far_ more experience with letting people down easily.

_Okay. Yes. Perfect solution._ He fell into bed. Of course he’d talk to Viktor about it, why hadn’t he considered that before?

At some point, he’d fallen asleep, because he wakes up, still fully dressed, but hard, a hand running over his pants, over the blanket, “You’re insatiable,” Yuuri murmurs, grinning softly, instinctively thinking it was Viktor.

“ _Stop thinking about him_.” Yurio hisses, strong thighs straddling the man beneath him.

Yuuri’s eyes fly open, heart stammering, smelling the alcohol on his friend’s breath, “Y-Yurio, what the fuck-”

“Shut up, Katsudon.” He mouths at his neck, biting down hard.

“No, wait-“ But a groan escapes his mouth, and Yuri grins in delight. Victory. Because that’s what he does. He wins.

“I… I just _can’t._ ” It’s a plea.

“And why not?” The question is annoyed, yet still accompanied by roving hands, undoing the buttons on the other man’s shirt.

“You’re too young-“

Angry again, but rather than repeat the answer from earlier, Yuri opens the shirt beneath him, taking a moment to marvel at Katsudon’s chest in the moonlight before leaning down, kissing a line towards a nipple.

“Yurio,” Katsuki gasps, voice growing a bit desperate, hands finally working, pushing the younger man away, “ _Viktor_.”

_Fucking Nikiforov_. Yuri stops, rolling back onto his thighs, sitting up, glaring a burning hole at the pig beneath him. The pig who was now _engaged_ to that asshole.

Viktor. He’s the reason for _all_ of this. Yuri had looked up to him too, idolized him. The pride of Russia. Yuri didn’t just want to _be_ Viktor… As he’d developed, he realized he _wanted_ Viktor. At first it was just thoughts of the skater in his younger years, long flowing hair, so pretty, Yuri didn’t think he was even attracted to men. Or women. Just videos, pictures of younger Viktor.

But after Yakov reprimanded him for the too-young quad attempt, Viktor made him a promise. Yuri took it to heart, let it drive him. Thought about the now-old Viktor. Let him consume his every thought, and he became central to his identity. Yuri was almost 15 before he let himself admit he was gay… And he wanted Viktor at any age.

Dutifully, he won gold in his last Juniors. The elation he felt, not just winning for Russia, but for _Viktor_ , the man might truly notice him now. Or even someday, after they’d worked together for the season, maybe Viktor would even become his coach, after the man became too old to stay competitive…

Except Katsuki happened. The _fucking loser_ he’d run into, crying in the bathroom. _How pathetic_ , he’d thought at the time, and disappointing, in what he thought might be a worthy opponent. And the _banquet_ … Yuri was impressed by the dance moves, yes, but the lack of control, and the fact Katsuki was _rubbing up_ on _his_ Viktor. In front of everyone. No.

That day after the Sochi Grand Prix, Yuri was firmly reminded that Viktor was the only one worthy of him.

Except. _Except_. Now Nikiforov saw the pig as worthy. Flew across the ocean, halfway across the world, _gave up skating_ , to be with the pig. Yuri was furious. He’d given the past years of his life for the man, and he _just left_. Without a thought, even admitting he’d forgotten.

He channeled some of that rage into the competition, but that’s what proved to be his downfall. Nikiforov must’ve intentionally given him a program about _pure love_ , so clashing with the fire in his soul at the moment. _Eros_ could burn, _Agape_ was empty. But the longer he’d stayed, the longer he’d spent time practicing with _the pig_ … the more he’d come to admire him, the seeds of love digging into his heart, before he’d even had the chance to defend himself, revulsion hiding his growing fondness.

He left confused, in the pain of heartbreak and rejection.

Yuri didn’t want Viktor anymore, and this time, he’d take what he wanted before it had the chance to let him down. Back in the present, Yuri leans back over, going for another kiss, a cutting whisper escaping his lips before they make contact, “ _Fuck Viktor._ ”

From Yurio, the kiss is an attempt to be savage, _Eros_ , fingers grasping hard at Yuuri’s waist, hips grinding down. From Yuuri, he’s timid, soft, slightly clumsy from drinking. Drunk or not, Yurio’s anger and determination seemed to grant him extra clarity.

Yuuri places a hand on Yuri’s chest, pressing back just firmly enough to give Yuri pause. Enough pause to allow Yuuri to sit up, panting slightly, sweating, trying to find his next best move.

“Just… Just come here.” He lifts the covers, patting the space next to him.

Heat rises in Yuri’s face as his heart leaps. He’s not sure how to feel — relieved? Happy? Triumphant? Aroused? Scared? Probably all of the above, if he were being honest. But he can’t back out now, this is what he’s been fighting for all night.

Yuri swallows, nodding, crawling under the blankets beside Yuuri. He tries to throw a leg over his hips again, but is stopped, “No, no, turn around.”

_Oh_ , his face burns so much it hurts. He turns over, but is pulled down, on his side, Katsuki’s arms coming up under his own, hands splaying over his chest, drawing him into… being spooned. Cuddled.

The burn in his face is out of rage again, now trying to squirm out of the embrace, “What the hell are you _doing_ -”

He’s shushed, the hold on him tightening, a whisper in his ear, “I love you, Yurio.”

_No, no, no!_ Yuri screams silently, eyes snapping open in muted distress, tears pricking at the edges of his vision. He doesn’t squirm anymore, now frozen in terror, Yuuri’s firm hold his only tether to reality. _What the fuck is going on?_ He’s panicking. He didn’t want this. He’d been here for sex. Love? How could Katsudon love _him_? After everything? He calls him _pig_ , for fuck’s sake.

“No- just- _fuck me_ _already_.”

“You already know I’m not going to.”

“Because you love Viktor.” Yurio means for it to be cutting, but he can’t help but withdraw into himself. He can’t win here. Of course he loves Viktor. Everyone does.

“I do, but that’s not why.” Yuuri kisses the back of his neck, heat radiating out from the place of contact, stopping Yurio from immediately protesting, “Because I love _you_.”

“Stop saying that!”

“No, please listen to me-”

“I won’t!” The kiss is still clouding his mind, searching for the meaning — Katsudon says he won’t fuck him, but still kisses him like a lover, and-

“Then I’ll just talk.” Yuuri sighs, releasing his hold, just a little, but still keeping him close, “You don’t know what you’re asking for. There are consequences… Ones you can’t understand yet.”

“Just shut up.” Yurio grumbles, “I can’t have any part of you.” Not his heart. Not his dick. He wouldn’t even take his virginity. “You’ve made that clear.”

“Only if you promise we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” _Maybe after I’ve gotten some advice._

“There’s _nothing_ to talk about.” Yuri tries to shove him away, but now, coming down, he’s so drained.

Yuuri kisses the back of his neck again, “If you at least consider it tonight, you can stay here.”

_Stay here._ “Right here?” Yuri asks, slight desperation leaking into his voice.

“Yes.”

“What about Viktor?” At the very least, the situation will seem suspicious, he’s now aware. Katsuki went to bed in his clothes from the banquet, shirt now hanging open from Yuri’s advances. Yuri wrapped in Viktor’s fiancé’s arms.

“He’ll understand.”

_Because the fucker is so perfect. Ha._ Yuuri didn’t know him the same way he did, the same way Yakov did. Viktor is selfish, rash. But the offer is too appealing, the comforting warmth of Yuuri’s body, strong heartbeat against his back. “ _Fine._ ” He hides drying what remained of his tears into the pillow, “Goodnight, Katsudon.”

“Goodnight, Yurio.”

 

* * *

 

At some point, Viktor returns to the room, pleasantly sloshed. He pads in, knowing his fiancé is probably asleep already. For a moment, he’s confused by the silhouette of _two_ people in Yuuri’s bed.

He considers being hurt, but then he recognizes the shine of blond hair, and the smaller form becomes clearer, and things start to come together. He’d seen what had happened at the banquet out of the corner of his eye — the kiss, and Yuri storming off. He’d meant to check up on it, but Yuuri had disappeared before he could break away.

Yuuri must’ve tried his best, Viktor believes that. _Oh, Yurio._

But for the first time in close to a year, the teen looks at peace. Viktor runs his fingers through his hair. He doesn't want to ruin this, so he gets into his own bed, trying not to worry about what the morning might bring.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written explicitly to be wrong from Yuuri’s perspective, and he knows it, and he’s trying to be a good person. Regardless of how he feels about Yuri, he knows has to turn him down because he is the adult in the situation. He, however, is very anxious of a person, and is afraid of Yuri hating him after taking so long to reach their friendship, and doesn’t want to destroy him emotionally. And he slips up a little, both from his own feelings and the fact he's had just a little too much to drink. Still, he tries. But this isn't a fic from Yuuri's POV for the most part, it's from Yuri's. Yuri doesn’t understand why it’s wrong, and he is too young to comprehend the gravity of his actions. All Yuri cares about is that he likes Yuuri, is a crock of teenaged hormones, thinks he’s fully able to consent, and can't understand why Yuuri doesn't find him attractive.


End file.
